


the air is familiar, the sun is not still

by betamax524



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Background Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4454255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betamax524/pseuds/betamax524
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He took care of Emma because she did the same for him. She had bailed him out in the middle of the night countless times, and talked her parents into basically hiring him as a mechanic which served as a cover for the monthly stipend he received. Thanks to her, he had a decent flat and didn’t go hungry, despite being an eighteen year-old high school dropout with no family in America. So, in exchange, he cooked for her, spent time with her, watched over her the way her own parents couldn’t be bothered to do so. They were family, plain and simple.</p>
<p>But with Charles there was this nagging feeling that he deserved so much more. There was a sadness in his eyes that Erik recognized from spending time with Emma, but there was just something that tugged at him more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. we will teach you how to make boys next door out of assholes

**Author's Note:**

> mom holy fuck my first x-men fic... there's not much in terms of Plot, it's focused more on character interactions and Teens With Feelings. there's going to be mentions of drinking and violence, but hopefully nothing /too/ intense. i'll be sure to give warnings as needed.
> 
> in this chapter there's a short description of someone dying, but not in explicit detail.

**i. _i’m not passive but aggressive; take note, it’s not impressive_**

      Erik leaned back against the doors of Emma's closet with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "What time are your parents coming back?" he asked, reaching for his glass of cheap vodka and downing it in one gulp. Emma scoffed, her eyes intently fixed on her own glass.

      "Why do you even ask at this point? They'll probably be coming back when I'm asleep." She replied, her other hand absentmindedly picking at the hem of her skirt. "Besides," she continued, "It's getting dark out. You should be going home."

      "Aw, are you worried about me now, Frost?" Erik teased, gently poking her side with his elbow. "It's not even night time yet. I'm not going to die walking home at night, you know."

      "I know," Emma replied with a snort. "I'm worried for everyone else. You can be such an ass when you're walking home at night. A sociopathic ass." Her lips curled into a smirk, and she gave him a light hearted push to the shoulder. "You nearly made that guy piss himself once."

      "He was _following_ us!" Erik replied, laughing, "I had every right to assume he was a serial killer, you know."

*     *     *

      _It was a month ago, at least. Erik was walking Emma home after they spent most of the afternoon rearranging his furniture to make room for a table that he could use for work. As the streetlamps flickered on, Erik glanced backwards and found a man slightly shorter than him, trailing them by a few meters. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around Emma's shoulders and pulled her closer._

*     *     *

      "Please, after that display, anyone would have assumed _you_ were the criminal." Emma says, shaking her head gently. "You're lucky no one else was around."

      "Fuck, imagine us at the police station." Erik snorted, and Emma threw her head back and laughed.

      "I thought he was going to kill us!" Emma said, imitating Erik's squared shoulders and hard eyes. "So I threatened him so that he would fuck off." She clicked her teeth, and Erik couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly at her imitation of him.

*     *     *

      _When the man continued trailing them, Erik stopped abruptly, and turned around. Emma looked at him with wide eyes, and tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. "I just want to get home, jackass." She hissed in his ear, but Erik waved her off._

      _"Hey you," Erik yelled out, and the man stopped in his tracks and looked at him in shock. "Yeah you. Listen, if you don't stop trailing us then I'm going to have to break your legs. Understand?" The man's eyes got even wider in panic, and he shakily raised his hands._

      _"Look, I-I-I'm just walking home, okay? Right, M-Miss Frost?" The man stammered, glancing at both Emma and Erik._

      _"He knows you?" Erik hissed. "What, is he some kind of stalker?" Emma merely stepped forward to get a better look, and just as Erik was about to pull her back, she started laughing loudly._

      _"Oh God! I'm so sorry Mr. Worthington!" She managed to say in between fits of giggles. "Erik here comes from uh... downtown... so please forgive him." Erik only looked at her in confusion as the man--Mr. Worthington?--shakily nodded his head and walked towards of the door of what looked to be his house._

      _"Well shit." Erik said._

*     *     *

      "How the fuck was I supposed to know he lived near you?!" Erik barked out, laughing again. Emma wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes and gave him another half-hearted shove.

      "Maybe because I didn't mind?" She replied, mouth twisting into a smirk.

      "Could've given me a warning, _sweetie_." He said, with a click of his teeth. He glanced out Emma's window and saw that the sun was setting. "Well, looks like I should actually get going huh."

      " _Obviously_ ," Emma replied, rolling her eyes, but leaning slightly to kiss Erik's cheek nonetheless. "Don't go around threatening people, alright?"

      "I'll try my best," Erik said, patting her on the shoulder as he stood up and shrugged on his leather jacket. "Don't stay up too late." He teased, as he put on his shoes and walked towards the door. He heard Emma laugh and shout back, _Speak for yourself!_ , and Erik gave a small chuckle as he stepped out, locking the door behind him.

      Once he had made his way down the front steps, he huffed and took out a cigarette from his back pocket and lit it. When he exhaled, the smoke wafted through the chilly air. He took a deep breath, zipped his jacket shut, and began walking back home.

**ii. _now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fuckin' dream i'm livin' it_**

      Charles sighed as he scribbled down notes in the margins of his notebook. He tapped his pen against paper as he tried to make sense of whatever he had jotted down in class. _This is what you get for not listening, Xavier_ , he mentally chastised himself. He put down his pen and rubbed at his face with his hands, irritated at how distracted he was lately. He blamed Monday for that. Monday never had any good news for him.

*     *     *

      _Charles was walking out of his last class when he saw him. He was leaning against the school gate, a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Dressed in a leather jacket and tight jeans, he didn't look like he went to school there. Other people passed by him, their chatter a dim hum in his mind. He didn't notice how long he had been standing there until the man looked right at him and smiled._

      _"You there," he said, drawing his cigarette out of his mouth, "With the blue eyes." Charles stood right there. frozen in shock. Was that man actually... calling for him? As if he could read his thoughts, the man laughed, his head thrown back. "Yes, I'm talking about you. You've been staring for a bit now, huh?" Charles felt his face getting red, but the man simply smiled. "C'mon, I'm not gonna eat you."_

      _Despite his better judgement, Charles slowly made his way to stand beside the man, and quickly found out that the man was at least a head taller than him. "Are you waiting for someone?" he asked, clearing his throat, "I've never seen you around before."_

      _"I'm waiting for Frost," he replied, "She owes me money and I want it back as soon as possible." Charles perked up at the name. There was only one Frost in the school, and that would be Emma Frost, notorious for being, in others’ words, a frigid bitch. That wasn’t fully true, though, it just so happened that the only person she seemed to talk to willingly was Charles. He was fond of her as well, in a way. She didn't seem to be the pretentious nouveau riche type, which he was glad for._

*     *     *

      Charles groaned and aimlessly rubbed at his temples. Here he was, pining over some guy he met a few days ago. Figures. But it was hard to get the image of him out of his head... The pale steel-blue eyes, the way the sun lit the angles of his face, the way his white shirt stood out against his brown skin. With a sigh, he dragged his hands down his face.

      He was _fucked_ , no doubt about it.

      Three short knocks quickly knocked him out of his thoughts, and he crossed his room to open the door. Raven was on the other side, leaning on the door frame and looking over her nails. “What do you want for dinner?” she asked, quirking up both her eyebrows and putting one hand on her hip. Biting his lip, Charles mentally ran through the various takeout menus he and Raven had accumulated over the years. 

      “We could always go for pizza again…” he started, pinching the bridge of his nose. He would kill for a home cooked meal right now, but they hadn’t had one of those in a _long_ time.

      “Same as always?” Raven huffed with crossed arms. Charles sighed and leaned his head against the doorway.

      “Yes Raven, same as always,” he replied, giving her a weak smile as she walked away. He wanted to laugh at how absurd the whole situation seemed. They were one of the richest families in the city, yet he and Raven couldn’t even eat food that wasn’t takeout because nobody in the house really cared. At this point it was safe to assume their mother, Sharon, got by on purely alcohol and leftovers. He snorted, and gingerly made his way back to his desk to continue his work.

**iii. _can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?_**

      Emma tapped her fingers on the glass table. Erik was _late_ , for some inexplicable reason, and this was the guy who threatened to cut off her hair when she was 5 minutes late _once_. She checked her watch, and saw a motorcycle pull up out of the corner of her eye. Sighing, she crossed her arms on the table and waited.

      Erik pushed the door of the café open with more force than necessary, and half-turned to… speak to someone? Craning her neck, Emma spotted brown hair and her eyes widened. Then Erik turned again, making his way to her with a blank face, and dragging Charles Xavier behind him.

      Pursing her lips, she watched silently as Erik unceremoniously fell into the chair opposite her and immediately reached for the table napkins. “Yes, I _know_ I’m late, but hear me out, okay Frost?” Erik was dabbing the napkins to his face, wincing at the contact. “I, _uh_ , got into some trouble on the way here.”

      “Obviously,” she replied, arching her eyebrows. “And it was only you?” Charles, aside from looking a little ragged, had no wounds on him. However, his eyes looked pained as he gingerly watched Erik dab at the blood on his face. She patted him on the shoulder, and gave a small smile. “This isn’t the worst he’s had, sugar, trust me.” Charles looked mildly shocked, but took it in stride.

      “Came _this_ close to taking them up on their offer, really. But it figured you’d be furious if I called you to tell you to bail me out of jail.” Erik replied, strangely calm. “So I just knocked them out and we ran.” Emma’s eyes met Charles’, who started flushing red.

      “Erik, _ah_ , he helped me out of a... _rough spot_ , that’s all.” he admitted, nervously running a hand at the back of his neck.

*     *     *

      _All Charles wanted was to get home after a particularly bad day at school. But no more than a few steps from the school, he noticed two men trailing behind him, trying to act casual. He huffed, and took a quick turn in the hopes of distracting them. Unfortunately, they were quite persistent, and Charles found himself weaving around in a circle until he spotted a convenience store just ahead. The cars were about to move at any moment, so he sprinted across the road and ran into the store. A quick glance behind him confirmed that the cars were moving now, but he could still see the two men on the other side, waiting._

      _He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to figure out a plan of escape, until he was disturbed by someone tapping on his shoulder._

      _“Xavier?” the voice asked, and Charles held his breath. Calming himself, he slowly opened his eyes and saw Emma’s friend looking concerned. Charles blinked twice, and he took a deep breath._

      _“I’m so sorry, I didn’t exactly catch your name--but I know you’re a friend of Emma’s and I… I was wondering, ah, do you by any chance know how to stop two shady looking guys from following you?”_

      _“Wait, two guys are following you?” Emma’s friend asked, his voice low._

      _Charles nodded, “Since I left for school earlier. I’ve been going around in circles to be honest.” he said, sighing, “But they just won’t let up.” Emma’s friend seemed to mull over this, his brow furrowed in concentration. After a minute, he sighed and rolled up his jacket’s sleeves._

      _“Name’s Erik. Whatever happens, just stay behind me, got it?” Emma’s friend--Erik replied, and he pushed open the door of the convenience store._

*     *     *

      Emma gave Erik a playful smirk before taking a sip from her cup. “Never took you for the knight in shining armor type,” she teased. Erik rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

*     *     *

      _So there they were, in the alleyway next to the convenience store. Charles found himself shoved behind Erik, who now had his hands in his pockets and a general air of boredom._

      _“Don’t make me crack your skulls open, boys,” he drawled, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. “Run while you both still have a face your mothers will recognize.” One of the men, tall, pale and dressed in sweats, merely laughed._

      _“Prove it, kid,” he barked out, and punched Erik in the face. The cigarette flew to the other side of the alleyway and Erik staggered backwards. Charles held his breath, his heartbeat ringing in his ears as a strange silence fell over them all. Erik touched three fingers where he had been hit, and they came back bloody._

      _The man who punched him was grinning, crossing his arms. “Not so tough now, huh kid?”_

      _Erik simply coughed in response, but then there was another, and soon he was laughing wildly, his sides trembling as he shook his head with a smile._

      _“I’ve had worse,” he replied gently, taking a step forward. The two men looked at each other, then lunged forward. Charles was about to turn away when he felt Erik step closer to him, then reach forward with his arms to knock the two men’s heads together. Charles winced at the sound of bone hitting bone, and only looked up when he heard an undignified thud._

      _In front of him, Erik was rubbing circles into the sides of his elbows, while the two men were sprawled out on the gravel. Erik took his phone out of his pocket, and gave an irritated click of his teeth. “Emma’s gonna have my head,” he said, turning to Charles and taking his head. “We gotta go.”_

*     *     *

      “I mean, the surprise was that he came with me willingly,” Erik said, lazily swirling his coffee in his cup. “I assumed you’d put up a fight.” Charles merely huffed as he felt his face go hot again, to which Erik smiled. “Don’t worry, it was the highlight of my week so far. Feels so good to let the anger out.”

      Emma rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Could the feared Lehnsherr be getting _soft_?” she said, placing her hand on her chest in mock confusion. “I’m going to miss breaking you out of jail.”

      “No, you’re not.” Erik replied nonchalantly, and Emma had to fight a smile at that. And when Erik turned to Charles and started fussing over him, she simply took a sip of coffee to hide the twinkle in her eyes.

**iv. _never took your side, never cursed your name_**

      The cool air whipped against his body, and Charles closed his eyes to take in the moment. He gripped Erik just a little bit tighter, feeling the warmth of his back against his cheek. He sighed, taking in the scent of leather and cheap cigarettes. The scenery blurred beside him, as they made their way back to Charles’ house. Soon he could recognize the large gate they were nearing, and he jerked slightly when the motorcycle stopped.

      “Do you always go riding without a helmet?” Charles asked, as Erik helped him get off. “Doesn’t seem very safe.”

      Erik laughed, his eyes going soft. “You’re the first person who’s ever asked me that. Busted up my helmet a few months ago, and never got around to getting a new one.” Charles stared at him incredulously. Last he checked, helmets were supposed to be extremely sturdy. “Before you ask,” Erik continued, “That’s a story for another time.”

      Charles sighed fondly. “So we’re going to see each other again?” he asked, wringing his hands, looking up at Erik with a sheepish smile.

      “Well, you’re obviously going to need someone to pick you up from now on, if you keep getting into trouble.” Erik replied, mounting his motorcycle as Charles willed himself from imagining _certain_ things. “You should get inside now.”

      “I’ll see you soon,” Charles replied, more of a reminder to himself, and flashed Erik a smile before turning his back to walk inside. He pushed aside the curtains in the sala to watch as Erik turned around and left.

      “Wow, who was _that_?”

      Charles turned around and found Raven leaning by the end of the stairway, her arms crossed and a smirk growing on her face. “Never realized you were into the _bad boys_ , Charlie.” He rolled his eyes, making his way up to his room.

      “We’re just _friends_ , Raven, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Charles said, shutting his bedroom door behind him.

      From the foot of the stairs, Raven chewed at her bottom lip. She had been looking for a snack in the kitchen when she heard the sound of a motorcycle coming near. Peeking through a slit in the curtains, she watched every moment. A taller, older, boy got off before helping Charles off. Raven literally had to slap herself. Charles wasn’t exactly sociable, even with people who liked the same things as he did. So watching this _attractive_ stranger enjoying his presence was definitely a first.

      It was like a cliché, actually, the way that stranger looked. Leather motorcycle jacket, jeans that seemed to be ripped from use, and not just for style, and the thick combat boots that made her feet ache just _looking_ at them. He even had a cut on his cheek that looked fresh, and a large black motorcycle. Not the smaller ones she would see around, but an honest-to-goodness motorcycle like what the Hell’s Angels would ride. Just _what_ kind of friends had Charles been making?

      She made a face, and went back to the kitchen to make some sandwiches for both her and Charles, mulling over Charles’ new “friend” all the while. _Sharon wouldn’t like it_ , she thought to herself, _But then again, it’s not like she cares anymore_. 

      She stacked the sandwiches precariously on a plate, then made her way to Charles’ room. They could talk about it later. Right now, she knew he had to be hungry.

**v. _be careful making wishes in the dark_**

      Locking the door behind him, Erik shrugged off his jacket and made his way to the fridge. He took off his shirt, and wrapped it around an ice pack he grabbed from the freezer. He walked back to the couch and dropped himself on it. He pressed the ice pack to his cheek and he hissed at the sting, clenching his other hand into a fist.

      He probably should have cleaned it up first, but he let the cold numb his cheek anyways, counting backwards from 60. Inhaling deeply, he let his head fall back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. The fluorescent bulb in his ceiling seemed dimmer, and he went over his budget in his head to see if he had enough to buy a new one. _Technically_ , he could always ask Emma for some spare cash-- which, she had a lot of-- but as much as possible he wanted to get by on his own.

      After a while, he stood up, tossed his shirt into the laundry, and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He took a minute to go over what he had in his fridge and figure out what he would make for dinner. Checking the chiller, he found lettuce and tomatoes, and he still had some cheese tucked away. He opened his cupboards and saw a can of sardines that he had bought the other day. The wheat bread was on the table, and it was down to the last two slices. “Sardine sandwich it is, then,” he said aloud to no one in particular.

      He made his way into the bathroom, where he checked his wound in the mirror, brows furrowed in concentration. It didn’t seem that bad, he decided, he would just have to lay low until it healed. Clicking his teeth, he carefully started washing it, then applied some antiseptic with a cotton ball. The band-aid could wait, he decided, as he made his way back into the kitchen to get started on dinner.

      While he sliced tomatoes, he mulled over what had happened that day. What started out as a quick side trip for some cigarettes had ended with two men face down on the gravel and the wind whipping through his hair. Emma had teased him about how he was _never_ the knight in shining armor, and it had him thinking. If it was just any other person, he honestly knew he would have turned away and left. Playing hero wasn’t what it was cut out to be when you had a criminal record that was only kept secret thanks to some well-placed money.

      But from what he knew about Charles thanks to Emma, it would’ve been worse to just leave him there. He didn’t exactly know much, but he _did_ know that Charles wasn’t the type who knew how to hit his way out of trouble. He was just being… _nice_.

      Oh God. _Nice?_ Erik Lehnsherr was most definitely _not_ nice, and that was a fact. He shook his head in disbelief, because Charles had no idea what Erik had done, so he looked up at him with wide eyes and thanked him so many times and paid for his coffee. Thinking about how Charles had looked at him made something in his chest ache.

      Sandwich done, he washed his hands and sat down, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. It was three years ago, but he still remembered it vividly.

*     *     *

      _Emma’s eyes were wet, and she was clutching at Erik’s hands as if he would disappear if she let go. “They’re going to push for the self-defense angle,” she whispered shakily, “Please, Erik, just play along.”_

      _“You know it wasn’t self-defense,” he replied coolly, “I let him come at me so I could get an opening.” She barked out a pained laugh in response, turning her head to wipe her tears on her sleeves._

      _“I’m not letting you go to jail for giving that man what he deserved,” she said, “Besides, my parents already have a plan and they say your case is as solid as it can be. Just play the part and it’ll be like nothing ever happened.” She looked straight at Erik, who simply sighed._

      _He could still feel the cool metal of the gun, how it weighed heavy in his hand, how he shivered slightly as he hid it behind his back. Shaw had come after him, angry and drunk, knife in his hands, pushing aside chairs and pinning him against the wall, and Erik’s mind just went blank until he heard the sound of Shaw’s body hitting the floor. He watched him, how his eyes had gone wide, how he was struggling to breathe. He watched him and waited until his eyes glazed over. He only called the police once he was sure that Shaw was dead. Didn’t that make him a criminal?_

      _“Please, Erik,” Emma said gently, “Please don’t leave me alone.”_

      _He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Alright,” he said, “Honestly Emma, you need better friends.”_

      _She smiled at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You’re the only friend I need,” she answered, and Erik felt his chest ache._

*     *     *

      He thought this over, comparing the ache he felt back then to the ache he was feeling now. He figured he wanted to keep both Emma and Charles safe, but there was a difference.

      He took care of Emma because she did the same for him. She had bailed him out in the middle of the night countless times, and talked her parents into basically hiring him as a mechanic which served as a cover for the monthly stipend he received. Thanks to her, he had a decent flat and didn’t go hungry, despite being an eighteen year-old high school dropout with no family in America. So, in exchange, he cooked for her, spent time with her, watched over her the way her own parents couldn’t be bothered to do so. They were _family_ , plain and simple.

      But with Charles there was this nagging feeling that he deserved so much more. There was a sadness in his eyes that Erik recognized from spending time with Emma, but there was just _something_ that tugged at him more. He ran a hand over his face and groaned.

      He pulled his phone out of his jeans and quickly sent a text to Emma. **shit** , it read, and he followed with a revelation. **i think i’m in love**

      **Oh no** , came Emma’s reply a few seconds later. **You’re fucked.**

      **hopefully in more ways than one** , he texted back, and doubled over in laughter when Emma’s response was nothing more than a dozen or so stop signs.


	2. don't pretend you'll ever forget about me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for mentions of alcoholism, implied child abuse, mention of parental death, etc

**vi. _grateful our cold memories lie_**

      Raven rubbed her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen. She carefully picked up the plastic cups littered on the floor, and threw them into the trash. Then she put the half-empty wine bottle back on the rack, and peered into the pizza box left on the counter. It was empty, but she figured Sharon didn’t even bother to throw it away. She dumped it into the trash as well with a loud sigh.

      She managed to gather a box of cereal and some milk, so she headed to the sink and started washing two bowls and spoons. She set aside one pair on the table for Charles, and poured cereal and milk into her own. The cereal was Charles’ favorite, and it was too sweet, being chocolate-covered cornflakes with frosted sugar, but she swallowed it down. It was better than nothing, after all. Halfway through her bowl, she heard a groan, and turned her head to find Charles stumbling into the kitchen.

      “We have cereal,” she said, mouth full, “It’s your favorite.” Charles gave a sheepish smile, and reached for the sugar before sitting down opposite Raven. “You’re _gross_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes as she watched him dump even more sugar on his cereal before eating it.

      “Whatever,” Charles mumbled, sticking his tongue out at her. Raven shook her head and focused on finishing her own cereal.

*     *     *

      _They were sitting at the table, just like this, but they were laughing and Brian was there, talking animatedly about his job while Sharon watched in wonder. The cook came in and gave them each eggs and bacon, while one of the maids put down 2 mugs of hot chocolate and 2 mugs of coffee. It was a nice Sunday morning, and at that point it seemed like nothing could go wrong. But that was the last breakfast they had together as a family._

      _Brian went out after lunch to inspect some work being done at the lab, and promised Charles and Raven that he would bring back some ice cream just for them._

*     *     *

      “It’s Saturday today,” Raven said as she stood up to wash her bowl and spoon in the sink. “Anything you wanna do?”

      “Honestly? I just want to go back to bed,” Charles replied with a soft sigh, “But maybe we can have something nice for lunch later, I guess.” He put his bowl and spoon in the sink, and stood up on his tiptoes to kiss Raven’s forehead. “Don’t get worried about me, okay?” Raven gave a curt nod, and watched Charles make his way to his room out of the corner of her eye.

*     *     *

      _When Brian didn’t come back after some time, Sharon started getting worried. While Charles and Raven were busy watching cartoon, she was pacing back and forth in front of the phone, wringing her hands together in distress. At some point the phone rang, and she shakily picked it up, her other hand playing with the cord._

      _She dropped the receiver, and everyone stopped what they were doing to look at her. She was shaking, breathing erratically, and her eyes were wet with tears._

      _“What’s the matter, Mrs. Xavier?” said one of the maids, approaching her carefully._

      _Sharon turned to look at her, and her mouth opened and closed in a futile effort to speak, until she squeezed her eyes shut and took in a deep breath. “Brian is dead,” she said weakly, taking a few steps backwards and falling into a chair._

*     *     *

      Raven jumped slightly at the sound of something breaking, and looked down to see the bowl she was washing split into three pieces. She shook her head, rinsed off her hands, and threw the bowl into the trash as well.

**vii. _who are you to tell me how to keep myself afloat?_**

      Emma stayed in bed, staring up at the ceiling as she listened to the sounds of her parents getting ready to leave. When she heard the sound of the gate being locked, and the humming of a car engine fading away, she gingerly stood up and shuffled into the kitchen. It was spotless, except for the two mugs by the sink that had been used for coffee.

      Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and made her way to her bathroom, grabbing her bathrobe along the way. She yelped when the stream of water in the water came out ice-cold, but she stood still, gritting her teeth together and letting the water wake her up. She scrubbed at her skin with slightly more force than necessary, ignoring the tears building in her eyes.

*     *     *

      _“Mom, can you make me pancakes?” Emma asked sweetly, standing by her mother’s desk dressed in her best clothes, her hair tied neatly into a ponytail. Her mother looked up from the papers she was sorting with a tight smile, glancing at the clock on the wall._

      _“Sorry Emma, I’m really busy right now,” she replied, gesturing to the stacks of paper on her table, “Maybe tomorrow, darling.”_

      _“You said that yesterday, and the day before that” Emma mumbled, wringing her hands behind her back. “I mean, Mrs. Lehnsherr can make pancakes for me and Erik really quick, so--”_

      _“Emma, **enough** ,” her mother said sharply, slamming her hand on the table. “Maybe you should go to Mrs. Lehnsherr’s and ask her to make pancakes for you, because **obviously** she’s better at it than me.” Emma blinked, but when she opened her mouth to speak, her mother shot her a glare. “Well, get going Emma, we don’t have all day.”_

      _Ignoring the burning behind her eyes, Emma set her lips into a straight line and stiffly walked out of her mother’s office, out of her own house. Her nails dug into her palm as she silently made her way to the Lehnsherr house. She went up the steps, knocked twice the way Erik taught her, and waited there. She stood there silently, tears rolling down her cheeks. A few minutes passed, and she knocked again, louder this time._

      _“Who is it?” said a muffled voice behind the door._

      _“It’s me,” she shakily replied, “Emma.”_

*     *     *

      The air was cold against her skin when she stepped out of the shower, but Emma ignored it and moved quickly. She went through her clothes and picked out a sleeveless V-neck, shorts, and pulled on one of her jackets. Frowning at the mirror, she carefully brushed her hair, then she slipped on some shoes, grabbed her keys and phone from her nightstand, and went to the garage.

      She got into her white Corvette, pushed in her key, and took a few deep breaths as she felt the car hum into life. With a push of a button, the garage door slid open, she drove out. With another push, the door closed, and Emma drove off.

*     *     *

      _“What are you doing here?” Erik asked, awkwardly standing by the couch where Emma was crying her eyes out. “Mama went out to buy groceries, I’m not sure when she’ll be back.”_

      _Emma opened her mouth, but out came another gasp and sob. She forcefully wiped away her tears with every shaky breath, angry at her mother and angry at herself. After all, wouldn’t her mother make pancakes for her back then when she was a good girl? So it was her fault. Her own mother didn’t want to spend time with her because she wasn’t good enough._

      _“I guess you can stay,” Erik said, and Emma looked up at him, tears still flowing down her face. Eyes softening just slightly, Erik reached out to wipe her cheeks dry and pull her into an awkward but well-meaning embrace. “There’s some chocolate in the fridge that Mama gave me,” he whispered, “I don’t think she’ll mind if we share.”_

*     *     *

      Parked in front of Erik’s flat, Emma gave herself one last look-over in the rearview mirror. Frowning, she dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a tissue. Emma Frost didn’t cry, at least, not anymore. She was older now, and she she didn’t need their _validation_ for anything.

      “So are you just gonna sit there?” came Erik’s voice, and Emma saw him standing in his doorway, arms crossed over his chest, with that absolutely _annoying_ smirk on his face.

      “How did you know I was here?” Emma replied, glaring coldly at him, but he simply laughed and shook his head.

      “I can see your car from a mile away, it’s so _goddamn_ white.” he said. “C’mon, lucky for you I just started cooking breakfast earlier so I can squeeze in some extra for you.” With that, he turned around and started walking back to the kitchen. Emma let herself smile, if only for a bit, before walking out of her car and following Erik inside.

**viii. _and it’s hard to dance, with the devil on your back_**

      Erik was almost done cooking what was probably the most delicious French toast he ever made when he heard the rumble of an engine he heard many times before. He peered into his fridge and was pleased to find he still had what he needed to make breakfast for two. A glance out his window showed the unmistakable white Corvette that could only belong to Emma. Shaking his head, he focused first on getting his food on a plate and preparing the ingredients for another serving when he noticed Emma hadn’t left the car at all.

      “First she comes by out of the blue, and now _this_?” he muttered to himself as he pulled on a shirt. Another glance out the window and Emma was still in the car, so he made his way to the door. 

*     *     *

      _“You’re awfully quiet,” he said, taking a drag out of his cigarette. They were waiting outside as Charles used the bathroom. He flicked away the ashes and Emma pouted, seemingly in deep thought as she looked over her nails._

      _“You like him, don’t you?” she asked, not even bothering to look up. Erik glared at her, then turned away with a huff._

      _“What’s it to you?” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at the ground. He looked back up at Emma, whose face seemed blank of any emotions._

      _“I was just asking,” she replied coolly, staring straight at him. “Well, I should get going,” she said, turning her head to see Charles walking towards them. “You’ve got a lot to think about, Erik.”_

*     *     *

      Erik was already half-done with his food, and shook his head when he saw Emma was still picking at hers. “We can’t all be ravenous animals like _you_ , Erik.” she said calmly, cutting another neat piece of her French toast. Erik gave her an incredulous look as he drank his coffee.

      “Well, when someone’s given you food the least you can do is eat it up, right? That’s what Mama always told me.” he replied, before making a show of picking up his remaining toast with his hands. The syrup started dripping down, and he ducked his head to lick it up before finishing what was left with three big bites. Emma wrinkled her nose as he licked his fingers clean and wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

      “You’re disgusting,” she complained, concentrating on slicing her food into neat pieces, but she was smiling all the same. “Anyways,” she continued, “Have you been thinking?”

      “What’s there to think about?” he said, sighing. He _liked_ Charles, yes, no doubt about it, but he still didn’t really trust himself with, well, emotions. Understanding them, at least. He got emotional pretty easily but it was still hard for him to figure out just _what_ he was feeling, and figuring out _how_ other people were feeling was a whole new challenge in itself. He could understand Emma just fine, but that was thanks to growing up with her, and she was only one person out of all the people he came in contact with. So many people had told him that he was callous, foul-tempered, easily riled up, but somehow he was _also_ extremely sensitive and emotionally unpredictable. In short, he was what Emma called “emotionally inexperienced.”

      “If this is about your stunted emotional growth,” Emma said, “The two of you are honestly on the same level.” When she saw Erik staring at her, she continued. “His father died when he was young, and after that his mother became an alcoholic recluse so he and his younger sister have pretty much had to grow up alone.”

      “Ah.”

      “Yes, exactly. And you don’t have to start dating him _right away_ , Jesus. Just… Just try to be friends with him. He really needs it.” she said, before taking a sip of her own coffee.

      “Huh, didn’t know you were the caring type,” Erik joked, a small smirk on his face.

      “Well, I guess it’s because I can understand where he comes from, that’s all.” Emma replied softly, looking down into her mug with a wistful look in her eyes. Erik leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on his thighs, and took a deep breath. Emma looked back up at him and tilted her head, waiting for a response.

      “Alright, alright, I’ll try, _happy_?” he said, and Emma literally beamed at him.

      “Don’t fuck this up, Erik.” she said, dabbing at her mouth with a tissue. Then she got up, washed her hands, grabbed her keys, and gave him a slight hug. “You’re not as messed up as people think you are,” she whispered, before patting him on the back twice and walking back to her car. Erik stood by the door, gave a small wave, and watched her drive off.

*     *     *

      _Mr. Frost came by as the sun was setting, and gave three sharp knocks at their door. Mama was busy cooking dinner, so Erik was the one who opened the door. Mr. Frost looked well put-together as he always did, his sharp suit and straight posture hiding the dark circles underneath his eyes._

      _“Is Emma here?” he asked, as if this was a planned thing. It wasn’t, but it happened enough times for both families to get used to it, apparently._

      _“Yes. I’ll go get her,” Erik replied, he glanced at the couch to suggest that he should take a seat, but Mr. Frost simply shook his head. So Erik let him step inside, and shut the door after him, before going to his room to get Emma._

      _When they both walked back to the living room, Mr. Frost gave a small sigh of relief, got up, and took Emma’s other hand in his. The two of them said their goodbyes, with Mr. Frost thanking Mama and Papa for their kindness. Before they went back to the car, Mr. Frost smiled at Erik, and patted his head. “You’re a good kid, Erik,” he said, “Wish I had a son like you.”_

*     *     *

      Emma’s car was far off by now, so Erik walked back inside, fixed up the table and began washing the dishes.

**ix. _we’re always sleeping in and sleeping for the wrong team_**

      Charles was curled up in his bed, staring at his phone as he scrolled down mindlessly. He sighed again for what was probably the fifth time that day and rubbed at his eyes. He was _still_ thinking about Erik, and it was starting to get on his nerves just how easily distracted he could get. He had crushes before, but they were fleeting things, nothing more than a few minutes of giddy thoughts, but _this_ , this was _different_. At first, he figured he was just drawn to the whole “bad boy” persona, but then Erik actually fussed over him and seemed worried about him. Charles buried his face into the pillow and groaned. Erik mentioned (joked?) that he would be driving him home after class, and although Charles was honestly _giddy_ at the idea, he wondered how Raven would take it. He wondered how his mother would feel… if she actually bothered to come out of her room during the day. He turned around so he was flat on his back, and stared at the glow-in-the-dark solar system his father had put up for him back then.

      His phone beeped suddenly, stunning him out of his thoughts. He shuffled around for a bit looking for it, and sat up straight against the headboard to check his messages.

      **Hey, do you want to eat out for dinner later? I know a great place :)** it read. Charles blinked his eyes in surprise. Emma? Inviting him out to dinner? Considering that she usually just dropped by their house, this was a surprise.

      **Raven can come along too. I’ll drive.** she added a few seconds later. Charles pursed his lips and typed out a quick reply. **I’ll ask Raven hold on** , then he made his way out of bed and walked to Raven’s room.

      “Raven!” he called out, and she opened the door, eyes wide and hair tied back in a ponytail. “Emma’s, ah, invited us to dinner? She says she’ll drive and she knows a good place.” Raven’s brows furrowed for a moment, and then she smiled widely.

      “Of course! I’m _dying_ to have something that isn’t takeout, for once,” she said, “Do we have to, yknow, dress up though?” Charles glanced down to ask Emma. **We’re coming! Is there a dress code?** he keyed in. Raven walked over and watched over his shoulder, both of them waiting for a reply.

      **Oh no, just casual clothes. I’ll pick you two up at 8 xo** came the reply.

      “I’m so excited!” Raven said, beaming, “Imagine Charles, one night without all that damn takeout!” She closed her eyes and made an appreciative hum, rubbing at her belly. Charles snickered, and she responded with a lighthearted smack on his shoulder. “Hey! Admit it, you’re getting tired of pizza and chicken too.”

      “Well, I’ll admit I’m ready for some fresh-cooked food too,” he replied, “But do you think we can bring some for mother?”

      “You’re going to give Sharon a doggy bag?” Raven asked, wrinkling her nose. “That just seems… sad.”

      “It is when you call it that! Raven _please_ , I’ll at least make it presentable.” he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If she has food to eat she doesn’t drink as much, and you know that.” Raven shrugged and sighed which Charles took as her agreeing. “I do wonder where she’s going to take us, though.”

      “I didn’t even _know_ Emma ate at… casual places,” she admitted, “I always assumed she ate out at those fancy restaurants decorated in all-white with the _tiny_ food servings.” Charles laughed when she mimed out how small she assumed the food was by holding up her thumb and index finger to her left eye and squinting.

      “We still have a long time to go, so I’ll be in my room I guess,” Charles said, moving in to hug Raven tightly. He walked back into his room and dropped back on his bed, letting his mind wander. Why did Emma suddenly decide to take them out for dinner, and where would she take them? And what counted as casual for her? Were they going to eat in a 3-star instead of a 5-star restaurant?

      And of course, he couldn’t help but wonder if Erik would come along. They seemed to be good friends, so she might bring him along… Charles buried his face into his pillow again, embarrassed as he felt himself blush. It wouldn’t hurt to make himself presentable though, so he pushed himself off his bed and started going through his closet for something to wear.


End file.
